


Undone

by demonbrained_knobstockings



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-04 07:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11550081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonbrained_knobstockings/pseuds/demonbrained_knobstockings
Summary: Events in Draullir did not go entirely as planned for Sara Ryder or Reyes Vidal.Now that Meridian has been discovered, however, things are finally slowing down. Can two lost souls rediscover what was left behind in a cave on Kadara?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _I could lift you up_   
>  _I could show you what you want to see_   
>  _And take you where you want to be_   
>  _You could be my luck_   
>  _Even if the sky is falling down_   
>  _I know that we’ll be safe and sound_   
>    
>  _*Capital Cities / Safe and Sound_

“This had better be good,” Sara muttered, striding up to Outcast Headquarters. She had very little patience for Sloane Kelly’s street airs on a good day, let alone one in which she’d had to deal with cannibals and a headache all at once. Even the grape gum wasn’t helping, and grape gum could solve intergalactic peace, if it really put its mind to it.

There were no guards posted by the interior doors. As they slid open, Sara shot a questioning glance back at Drack and Vetra. They both shrugged.

The inner sanctum was just as quiet. The team’s boot heels rang out across the empty hall – well, not entirely empty. Sloane Kelly was still there, still carelessly slouched in her makeshift throne.

Sara wasted no time with the niceties.

“Where is everybody?”

Sloane slung an arm across her raised knee. “I told them to get out of my sight.”

“Yeah?” Sara blew a small bubble, popped it with a snap. “Who pissed you off?” Not the best thing for a headache, really, but then – appearances and all that nonsense.

“The Charlatan used my own people to beat up Kaetus. He’s alive. Barely.” Sloane wasn’t usually one to freely hand out emotions like that. Or feel them.

Sara found she didn’t like it. She liked Sloane arrogant and soulless, made her easier to loathe. But this –

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, and she was. “I liked Kaetus.”

“ _Like_ him,” Sloane snapped. Her hands were fists at her side, and she looked ready to maim the nearest living thing.

“Right. Present tense.” Sara blew another bubble, popped it. Was it the smartest thing, needling Sloane in such a state? Probably not, but then, headaches make you do weird things. Even SAM could do little to ease it, unless he all of sudden developed a “for the greater Sara” complex and made her drop into a coma; sleep would be the only respite. Which reminded her: she really should go check on Scott soon. After this next mission...

The Outcast leader sank back into her oversized chair. “I didn’t call you for a pity party.”

Sara raised the mildest of brows. “You call me here to yell at me? ‘Cause, I gotta tell ya...”

“The Charlatan left a note of Kaetus’ body. He wants to ‘settle things’ between us. Meeting spot is in Draullir.”

“Welp, that’s a trap.”

“Y’think?” Sloane somehow managed to rein in most of the sneer. Sara was impressed.

“Look – I can’t trust my own people, but you...”

If Sara raised her brow any higher, it would disappear into her scalp. “You saying you trust me, buddy?”

A little bit more of the sneer slipped out. “You’re an outsider, and...” she looked like she was trying to swallow a Pyjak monkey, “...honorable.”

Sara nearly spit out her gum. “Can we knock it off with the false flattery, you’re only confusing me. Just say you want backup that the Charlatan hasn’t gotten to yet. Speaking of which...” she tilted her head; it throbbed a bit more. “Hasn’t the Charlatan had plenty of time to act? Why make a move now?”

Sloane sighed, flexing her long fingers. “I ignored the Collective for too long. Thought they were just another ragtag group of upstarts.”

_Sounds familiar_ , thought Sara.

Sloane went on: “Now they’re bold. And dangerous. What happened to Kaetus is on me. I’ve got to end this before it gets worse.”

“Mighty noble of you.”

Sloane ate the growl. “You with me or not? Kadara’s fate will be decided at this meeting.”

Sara studied the other woman for a hard minute. Sure, they had never hit it off, but then, Sloane was the jackwagon that she knew. The Charlatan, on the other hand...

She shrugged. “Alright. I’ll be there.”

She could tell that Sloane wanted to make a rude a comment about that. She almost wanted her to, giving her a viable out. But, in the end, Sloane was probably right – Kadara’s fate would be decided at this meeting, and, call her crazy, but she had developed a bit of a soft spot for the mangy planet. Couldn’t hurt to maybe have a tiny say in the course for its future.

She was therefore both relieved and impressed when Sloane once more swallowed the default abuse.

“Meet me at this location. I’ll be there.”

“You got it.” Tipping her a crooked salute, Sara turned about on her heel and strode back out of the hall, Drack and Vetra following in her wake.

Plus, she thought, if Draullir was where she pictured it in her head, they should have time to swing by another monolith and activate it, thereby having at least something good come out of the day, regardless of how the meeting went.  
  
  
  
  
“Well that didn’t go as smoothly as the others.”

Sara lay stretched out between the monolith’s massive pillars. Shattered pieces of Remnant bots lay scattered all around. There was a heavy pulsing sound that hadn’t been present at any of the other monoliths that they’d activated – then again, maybe it was the headache, spreading to just behind her left eye.

“That’s what I like about you, Vetra – we’re all thinking it, you’re the only one brave enough to say it...”

“You planning on getting up any time soon, or should one of us send Sloane your regrets?”

“I’d be happy to,” rumbled Drack.

“Nope. I got this.” With a grunt, Sara heaved herself into a sitting position.

“Y’sure?”

“Yup. Just another few hours should do it.”

“Sara –” Vetra began, no longer sounding amused.

Sara waved this away. If nothing else could get her up, it was spite towards sheer exhaustion. And so it did. It wasn’t even that bad, once she was standing. Legs were so neat, the way they could automatically remember the movements for walking, even if it was slightly beyond one’s self at the moment. _Muscle memory’s the shit._

Out loud, she said, “First one to the Nomad gets to drive.”

Vetra was off like a shot.

Drack’s shot was disgruntled. “Speed? Since when is that a good indication of superior driving?”

This, too, she waved away. “You can drive back to the Tempest. Tell Vetra I said you could.”

“Ha!” he grunted. “It’s the longer way.”

Sara barely heard him. S’long as she could stretch out in the back seat and catch a ten-minute nap, everything would be fine.  
  
  
  
  
Everything wouldn’t be fine.

“Took your sweet time,” said Sloane, the moment they had reached the entrance to the cave.

“Sloane...” said Sara warningly.

Vetra nudged Drack.

“...I understand that you want control of all the non-toxic water on Kadara. I do. Hell, it’s what I’d do if I were a terrible being of any species, let alone human, but the next time you want help from me? Sloane? How ‘bout you cool it with the ‘lapdogs’ and the smug looks when you’re – what? – ten minutes earlier than the other person?”

Again, Sara was forced to feel just a smidgeon of respect that Sloane didn’t immediately shoot her in the face.

“Activate another monolith, did we? How delightful. I do hope all those laser wounds are superficial.”

“Wonderful. Wanna get this over with?”

On the contrary, Sloane looked like she wanted to stay there all day, just tossing insults back and forth. If Sara didn’t know any better, she’d say the woman was looking for a buddy, but then –

“After you, lapdog.”

“I bet Kaetus beat himself up, just to get away from you,” Sara muttered, trudging into the cave. It may have been an unworthy comment – she really didn’t mind Kaetus, for all his misplaced loyalties – but it made her feel better. Slightly.

Like all Kadaran caves, this one had been carved out into several interlocking caverns. Unlike most, however, this one had such towering ceilings that shafts of light managed to pierce through to the ground. In fact, at a certain point, the tunnel through which they moved seemed to get even brighter at the other end, as if they were exiting the cave through the back. But it ended up just being a massive, organic skylight.

So bright was it, in a space that should’ve been mired in shadows, that Sara got a bad feeling in her teeth, as if once their boots toed the sun-marked rock, something terrible would happen.

“Sloane...” she began.

The other woman shrugged her off. In the next moment, she had stepped into the harsh light.

Sara held her breath.

Nothing happened. No rumblings, no ambush, no gunshots...just silence.

And then: “You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

Sara’s gaze snapped up. She knew that voice, knew it as if it were breathing warm Spanish nothings in her ear, its drawl seductively lowering itself into the light like honey.

_Pathfinder, I detect a life form that matches –_

“Got it SAM,” she muttered.

And then he stepped out of the shadows, high above them on a large outcropping of rock.

“Reyes Vidal,” said Sloane, sounding smug. “Has the Charlatan gotten cold feet? Had to send some two-bit criminal instead?”

Sometimes Sloane’s thickness astounded Sara. She forced her face to remain neutral. “Same guy, bud.”

“Surprise,” said Reyes, that easy smile twisting that one little word.

Sara didn’t want to engage. If anything, she wanted to fade back into the wall of the cave, float back to the Nomad, curl up in the backseat, and sleep for about a week. But this fucking rankled.

“The Angaran spy?” she said, seething only just a bit. “Your interest in the Roekaar murders? ‘A lot of people are scared, Ryder’ – you’ve just been undermining Sloane’s power.”

“Death by a thousand cuts.”

His golden gaze ensnared hers for the briefest of moments, before flicking back to Sloane.

The Outcast leader seemed to have taken this revelation in stride.

“You said you wanted to settle things,” she said. “How?”

Reyes leapt down from the ledge. “A duel,” he said, landing in a crouch. “You and me. Right now. Winner takes Kadara Port.”

Sloane snorted. “You want to avoid war by shooting each other?” She had tried to make it sound disdainful, amused; Sara heard the uncertainty buried beneath.

Judging by Reyes’ slow smile, he had noticed it, as well. “Two people shooting each other is better than a lot of people shooting each other, no? Besides,” he added, a touch of sympathy in his voice, “don’t you want to end this foolish little squabble before it gets worse?”

Sloane growled at the implication. She shot a look behind her at Sara and her team. Sara could only return the mildest of shrugs.

“Fine,” Sloane finally bit out. “I’ll take those terms.”

Reyes actually chuckled, that soft sound stroking Sara in all the wrong places, as it always did.

The next moment was like a scene out of one of Liam’s westerns. No sooner had Sloane agreed to the duel than they were circling one another, gloved fingers inches from their hips. Sloane was bottled fury – you could see it in her tense shoulders, every muscle coiled, ready to spring. Reyes, on the other hand, was fluid, almost more graceful than a man had any right to be. There was a gleam in the cocky bastard’s eye that said he knew the outcome of this duel before it even –

A glint of metal caught her eye.

_Sniper_ , came SAM’s analysis. _His sights are set on Sloane._

Sara snapped her attention from the circling duel, up to another high rock platform.

That shady bastard, she thought. She knew she had seconds, if that, to make a decision. Reyes was moving deliberately to the left, allowing the other gun to line up for a prime target.

Sloane’s finger twitched.

Sara closed her eyes.

A shot rang out. 

A grunt of shock and pain.

Sara opened her eyes.

Sloane was doubled-over, trying to remain upright, still fighting to stretch her fingers towards her gun. Then she collapsed.

Reyes moved over to her body, now splayed out across the floor of the cave, staining it with her blood. The sunlight lit the scene like the end of a macabre play.

There was movement towards the back of the cavern; Reyes’ man had leapt down from his perch, tucking his rifle behind one shoulder.

“Get her out of here,” said Reyes, staring down at Sloane dispassionately. “Then prepare the crew. Kadara Port is ours tonight.”

With that, without a backwards look, Reyes turned and strode out of the cave.

“Freakin’ – hold tight here a sec,” Sara shot at Drack and Vetra, both of whom looked fairly unmoved by the whole event. “Reyes,” she called down the tunnel, lengthening her strides to catch up. “Hey – Reyes!”

Finally, he stopped.

She slowed as she neared him. “So that was different, huh?”

“Was it?” He gave a tight smile. “I was hoping to make it special for her.”

“Not, ahh – not something you felt like telling me about?”

Reyes gave her a long, searching look. Then he just shrugged. “You seemed to be getting along so well together, I didn’t want to ruin it for you.” He turned and began striding away once more.

Sara took a couple skips to keep up.

“I hear Kaetus will live, if you care.”

“I’m delighted to hear it. Sloan’s people can be a ruthless lot.”

“Right, ‘cuz you had nothing to do with it.”

Reyes swung back once more, hands on hips. “Do you mean did I hold a gun to their heads and order them to beat the shit out of their comrade, their lives or his?”

“Oh, yes, because that’s your style, isn't it? Everything out in the open, not all manipulation and... _subterfuge_ , and....”

He made an impatient sound. “Yes, I am a master at making others do things that aren’t already in their hearts. Why, I believe I could stroll back into that cave, whisper insipid little rumors into your team’s ears, and suddenly you will be fighting off an enraged krogan and turian, yes?”

Having no adequate retort to this, Sara just glared.

“Exactly,” he bit out. “The Outcasts were a poison, to themselves as well as others.”

Sara felt her face scrunch, an unattractive side-effect to being on the very edge of an emotional explosion.

“I guess we’re cool, then? You’re obviously fine with having used me this entire time, so I imagine there’s nothing more to be said.”

“Sara...” he said, and suddenly his voice was no longer hard. He held a hand out towards her.

She backed away from it.

He seemed to struggle for the appropriate words, ones that would alleviate any guilt, make her understand. “You didn’t need to...it would’ve been...” He gave up. “I liked the way you looked at me. I didn’t want that to change.”

“That whole time, when we were, um...” Sara felt the knot forming at the back of her throat. “You’re not the person I thought you were.” 

“I wanted to be,” he said quietly. His hand dropped.

They stood there at the mouth of the cave, together yet apart. The roar of a lone eiroch sounded somewhere in the distance.

“So...” She swallowed with difficulty. “What now?” She had the sudden urge to fling herself at him, have him catch her up in his strong embrace, swing her around, everything forgotten, everything forgiven, as long as she could just hear that soft, slightly mocking laughter again.

He raised that once outstretched hand to rub the shaved hair at the back of his head.

“I get to work. Kadara Port won’t take itself.”

“Ah – right.” Her headache had gone from invasive to blinding.

“Look, I...” He cleared his throat. Then he shook his head, raised his eyes to hers one last time. “Take care of yourself, Ryder.” He turned and walked away.

“See ya, Reyes.”  
  
  
  
  
It should’ve taken longer to reach the landing dock, receive permission to take off. New orders had apparently been given, however, and Sara found herself ensconced within the blessedly cool walls of the Tempest sooner than she’d anticipated.

She made only one stop before descending to her cabin, and that was to pop onto the bridge to set a course for Elaaden. It briefly occurred to her that they should make a quick detour at the Nexus, just to check up on Scott. _After this next one..._

But then the doors to her private quarters were softly swishing open, closing behind her. Her fingers shook as she struggled to undo her armor, shoving the plates away with her boots as they came undone and fell with clatters to the floor.

_You have new email, Pathfinder._

“That’s nice,” she said, dropping down onto the edge of her bed to tug her boots off, heaving each across the room. She didn’t even bother with the body suit, just crawled up the mattress until her head hit the pillow. With a groan, she stretched her arms above her head, tucking them beneath the pillow. Her hand hit something hard.

Frowning, Sara shifted a bit, enough to pull out whatever was beneath it.

It was an old, beat-up tin box, the kind kids might carry their lunch in. On the front was a rather faded image. She had to squint to make it out, and then just barely: a caped woman in a flying pose, a shield held firm to her side, her long black hair swirling around her.

Still frowning, Sara opened the tin. Inside were about a dozen of her favorite teas carried over from the Milky Way. And between these small bags was a solitary pack of grape bubble gum. A white note card was tucked beside it. Hesitating for only a moment, she plucked it out.  
  
**Contraband. Don’t tell Cora. – R.**  
  
And then the tears came.


	2. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When the world ends_   
>  _Collect your things_   
>  _You're coming with me_   
>  _When the world ends_   
>  _You tuckle up with me_   
>  _Watch it as the stars disappear to nothing..._   
>  _Oh, you know when the world ends_   
>  _I'm gonna take you aside and say_   
>  _Let's watch it fade away, fade away_   
>  _And the world's done_   
>  _Ours just begun_   
>    
>  _*Dave Matthews Band / When the World Ends_   
> 

This was it – Meridian was saved, the viable planets were rebooted, and Andromeda was shaping up to become a satisfyingly welcoming home. All of the aforementioned, spread out before humanity on a shining Heleus cluster platter, and still Reyes Vidal was...well, less than satisfied. 

“What is that vile drink you have there?”

Reyes didn’t look up. “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on something?”

Keema Dohrgun gave a trilled laugh as she took a seat beside him at the bar. “What, and miss the festivities? Darling, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Reyes did look up at this; if angarans had eyelashes, hers wouldn’t have batted an inch. “Yes, I have someone in place, and no, it’s not Kian.” She looked around at all those assembled – Initiative higher-ups, newly-appointed Angaran dignitaries, and the colorful (if less polished) heroes of the final push for Meridian.

“I must say,” she said, her voice a low murmur in his ear, “if it’s a surprise to find either of us here, it’s you, my dear. Have you spoken to her yet?”

His grip on the glass tightened.

“Darling, as attractive as your broods can be, the nonverbal aspect is entirely lost on me. I can’t tell if you’re moody because you’ve not worked up the nerve yet, or sad because you did, and it was all for naught.”

“Keema...”

“Hush for a moment, I believe we have someone of import approaching.”

As she rose, Reyes took another sip of his drink, letting it linger on his tongue before finally swallowing.

“Excuse me,” he heard the lovely angaran purr, “but I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

“No? A massive oversight on my part, I assure you.”

Reyes frowned at the obsequious tone. He glanced up at the tall salarian who wore a badge proclaiming himself to be an Initiative director, and the slightly unfocused expression of one who was slightly tipsy.

Keema was going to eat him alive.

“Director Tann, is it? How lovely. Let me introduce you to one of the heroes of Meridian, Reyes Vi – Reyes?” She looked around. “Slipperier than an eel, that one.”

As the bartender approached, she waved him down. “May I ask what the gentleman sitting here was drinking?”

“Purple Haze, ma’am.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The bartender shrugged. “Mostly grape liqueur.”

Keema shook her head. “Oh, that poor man.”

  
  


There weren’t many places to be alone – or, as Keema would most likely call it, “hide” – at such a celebration, but Reyes managed to jimmy open a set of French doors and slip out onto a secluded balcony all the same. It was fairly typical as fancy balconies go: an ornate railing that wasn’t yet high enough to prevent someone toppling sideways over it; a few ornamental shrubberies that were wont to stab unwary bystanders.

He leaned back against the wall on the far side of one such shrubbery, boot propped beneath him, arms across his chest. The French doors he had shut behind him, yet he fancied he could still hear her voice floating above the elated din.

He could remember the first time he’d heard it, so many months back now...

  
******************************************************************  
  
He’d prepared for the meeting as he always did.

_One: conduct research on contact._

_Two: go to meeting place early and observe from afar._

_Three / Four: make impressionable entrance / be charming self._

_Five: make charming self indispensible to contact’s cause, cultivating relationship based on trust and mutual respect._

_Six: exploit said relationship for own gains._

The entire routine was such old hat, he could’ve turned-in a perfectly-adequate performance on a hangover and two hours of sleep.

And so there he was, comfortably-situated in a corner table at Kralla’s Song, when the pathfinder strode in.

She was young, as young as the Initiative records had indicated, yet there was something extra that the hacked files couldn’t have related – something in that little bounce in her step, as if Kadara’s gravity didn’t have as great a hold over her as everyone else, as if the dimly-lit bar wasn’t full of low-lifes that would jump her in broad daylight, steal her armor, and snap her slender little neck, just for good measure.

He watched from the shadows as she trotted up to the bar, slung a leg over a bar stool, and waved at Umi. Umi, bless her, ignored her. Even this, however, apparently failed to put a damper on her spirits. She spun a bit on her stool, studying everything about her with wide-eyed interest.

It amused Reyes to note that so far, no one had slithered up to her side of the counter. Sly glances were shot her way above the rims of mugs, naturally, but it was as if the natives saw the wide-eyed innocence and instantly thought: _trap._

Reyes chuckled to himself. What an endearing, foolish little creature. He waited another minute, giving other patrons the chance to rethink their wariness and approach her, thereby giving him the chance to drive them off and earn her gratitude.

Sadly, Kralla’s regulars all seemed content to scowl from afar. So observing, Reyes stood, gave a careless stretch, cracked his neck, and allowed his most seductive saunter to carry him over.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” he murmured, his voice low, caressing.

“What?” The stool spun back his way, presenting his first up-close encounter with the human Pathfinder. Gracious, but she was young. And wide-eyed. He watched as the replies flitted across her face, one after the other, like she had studied for a test and was trying to figure out which flashcard matched this question.

“Ummm...yes.” Her nose wrinkled, as if unsatisfied with the chosen flashcard.

Right then, he nearly took her small hand in his, led her out of Kralla’s and back to the landing dock, where he would firmly hand her back over to those awaiting her return on the Tempest, with a stern rebuke that they would let her wander about like that. Had he been a better man, he would have done just that. But he wasn’t, and so he could only delight in the Initiative’s incompetence, sending a lamb to the wolf’s den as they so clearly had.

And so when he did take her hand, it was to murmur an introduction, his eyes dancing at her surprise and relief.

Umi smacked two shots down by his elbow. He slid one back. “Something a little less...robust, perhaps.”

Notwithstanding Umi’s deep disapproval, the little pathfinder’s face had scrunched back up. “I’ve had alcohol before.”

He chuckled. “Not Umi’s, you haven’t.” He offered her the substitute, then nodded his head at a more secluded section of the bar.

She really was a trusting little thing, ready to believe anything that came out of his mouth, almost desperate for it.

By the end of that first meeting, she was gazing up at him like he had just rescued her kitten from a tree. If only she’d known then that he’d been the one to steal into her house, grab the kitten, and stick it up in the tree in the first place, after taking only the smallest of detours into her bedroom to stand above her sleeping form, bare legs caught up in cotton sheets... He had an absurd urge to flick her in the nose, and at that, he knew it was time to take his leave.

As he moved away, he heard that voice call out after him: “Where can I find you if things go bad?”

What a delectable little snack for Kadara. He flashed her his most winsome smile and a wink, adding, “Don’t forget – Sloane likes being called ‘majesty’.”

  
  
  
She looked thoroughly disgruntled as he hailed her from the side of the marketplace. 

“Tell your sources they royally screwed the pooch on that one – Sloane does not like being called ‘majesty’.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. “That was me, I’m afraid.”

She glanced up, eyes narrowed. “What’s that now?”

He eased off the laughter with reluctance. “Sloane can be very persuasive when met with an agreeable person such as yourself. I knew you didn’t want to consent to anything that would end in Vehn Terev’s execution, so...” He shrugged. “With greatest regret, I made you distasteful.”

“Could’ve told me,” she muttered. She fished in her pocket for a moment, pulled out a pack of gum, and popped a piece in her mouth.

The cloying scent of grape instantly assailed him. He raised his eyes heavenwards. Could the Initiative have found a younger creature? There was a word for her, and it gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. From his research, he knew that she been enlisted in the Alliance military, though those duties had largely been in the interest of keeping peace. The thought of her with a gun made him smile fondly down at her.

“What?” she asked again, still irritated.

_Plucky_ , he thought. Dear lord.

“Nothing,” he said, and proceeded to give her the means of releasing Vehn Terev to the Resistance.

“Maintenance shaft,” she said, with only the smallest of frowns. “Got it. Thanks again.”

As she turned to leave, he couldn’t help himself. “Was Umi very upset over the tab?”

“Hmm?” she said, absentmindedly fiddling with her omni-tool. “Oh, no, it was fine, I took care of it.” And just like that, she was trotting off to rescue the angaran spy from Sloane’s clutches.

It was Reyes’ turn to narrow his eyes.  
  
***********************************  
  
He was always late, whether due to indifference, or because he was too busy observing the meeting spot to actually be at it. Today by the Roekaar hideout was no different. Reyes lay in wait, watching as his little pathfinder strolled inside the base, flanked by her krogan and turian bodyguards. Then he waited some more – not too long, but enough for things to escalate to a point in which the appearance of a hero wouldn’t be turned away.

Finally, checking to make sure his sniper rifle was primed and his grenades at the ready, he made his way over.

  
He stared around at the carnage. So many angaran bodies lay scattered about, some collapsed mid-charge, others dead behind the crates behind which they had hunched.

The krogan and turian were picking through the weapons, comparing them to their own already-impressive arsenals. Their casual perusal could only mean –

“Hey, Vetra!”

Reyes felt the air seep back into his lungs.

“Do you think a data pad is good enough evidence?”

He couldn’t see her; her voice shouted down from one of the far platforms.

“For who?”

“That Resistance contact guy.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed. A snort sounded from nearby – it seemed the krogan was fine with laughter.

“Ask him yourself.”

“Why, he here?” A head popped over the side of the farthest platform. “Hey, Vidal – you made it!” She actually waved. Then she was hopping over the side of the platform, ignoring the stairs entirely, and jogging over to him.

“Sorry you missed the fun, but this should make up for it.” She was a bit breathless as she handed the data pad over.

He raised a brow, accepting the pad and quickly scanning it. “Fun?”

She shrugged, swiping some grime away from her cheek. “They weren’t very nice. That Farrah, what a piece-a work, huh? I’d feel bad, but, well, you saw what they did to that last guy. Anyway, if that helps, we’ve actually gotta book it, something going on in the Remav system we gotta check out.”

Reyes was rarely at a loss of words. Was it possible that he’d so thoroughly misread this intoxicating creature?

“This is...you did good, Ryder.”

“Oh, phew, I thought maybe we should’ve kept someone alive for you to chat with, but you know how it is...” She made a motion like swinging a bat.

Reyes felt like she’d actually struck him in the head. It was the only explanation for why he could be smiling down at her, instead of throttling her for ruining all his carefully-laid plans.

“Let me know when you’re back in the area,” he said, his gaze raking across the bodies splayed about. “I may have need of a bodyguard for an assignment.”

She actually laughed, and he once again caught the scent of grape. “Don’t get your hopes up, there, bud,” she said, striding away from him and up the stairs. “I’m very expensive!”

The turian followed her at a jog. The krogan took a more sedate pace, still chuckling to himself.

“Later, hero,” he shot over his shoulder.  
  
  
***********************************************   
  
“Ryder! It’s good to see you.” And it was. He couldn’t help the feeling that always seemed to crop up when she was around – something akin to a spiritual unburdening, as if all his responsibilities were temporarily put on hold.

She strode into his private room like a conquering general, all five-feet-something of her. The turian was, as ever, just behind her.

He smiled, watching as she plonked herself down on his couch, boots up on his table, hands interlocked behind her head.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked.

She shrugged her raised elbows and stared at the ceiling. “I was doing some thinking, see, and it occurred to me that you meant to irritate me with that unpaid tab at Umi’s.”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was a test? See how you faired under duress?”

“Nope. You owe me a drink. A proper one.”

He laughed. “And your friend – Vetra is it?” The turian was still standing by the door. “I don’t mind extending that debt.”

“Oh, hey, Vet –” The little pathfinder tapped her head. “SAM says someone’s trying to break into the Nomad, mind checking on it?”

“Oh, no, not the Nomad, must dash.” The doors whisked open and closed.

Ryder shrugged another elbow. “She would’ve rolled her eyes to death, I imagine.”

Reyes paused on the way to his liquor cabinet. “Why is that?”

She grinned over at him. “Because you’re a tiresome flirt.”

“Am I?” The cabinet door squeaked open. “I’m not sure which offends more, that my social skills are hazardous, or that she felt safe leaving you unchaperoned with me.”

She snorted, moving her boots just enough so that he could set down a bottle and two glasses.

“I bet you’ll get over it.”

His gaze flicked up to hers. “I imagine I will.”

The drinks poured and in-hand, Reyes resumed his own seat on the couch, a boot propped-up on one knee. “So, what really brought you here?”

“You don’t believe it’s for your company?”

He took a sip. “With much sorrow, not entirely, no.”

He watched the rolodex of responses flash once more across her expressive face. Then her boots came off the table and she leaned forward, suddenly pensive.

“You did say I could come to you if I needed information on anything, yes? – you know, because no one likes me in this confounded port.”

He spread his hands. “Of course.”

She chewed on her lip, her drink untouched, merely cupped between her hands. She looked back up. “What do you know about the Charlatan?”

Reyes said nothing for a moment, then lapsed into one of his easy smiles. “Only what I mentioned before, that they seem to be very careful and discreet.”

She treated him to a harder look than normal. “Really? That’s it?”

If he suddenly felt on edge, he didn’t let it show. “Unfortunately. My sources are good, but we all have our limitations.”

It wasn’t until she sighed and reclined back against the couch cushions that he allowed his breath to slowly escape his lips. Was he being ridiculous? Should he just take Keema’s advice and reveal everything?

“What’s happened?” he asked carefully. “Even if I can’t help with that, perhaps I could help with the larger issue.”

He watched her tip her cup back, staring glumly into it. Now that he really studied her – especially now that she had brought her energy levels down a few degrees – he could see the exhaustion creeping in.

She leaned forward once more, set the glass back onto the table, and rubbed the back of her neck.

Reyes’ fingers twitched at the thought of performing the small task for her.

“We’ve just been jumping back and forth with so many things lately,” she muttered. “Not that that’s a change, but everything’s priority one, and the directors – Nexus – are all cramming down my throat about different things.”

“And the Charlatan?”

She shrugged. “Addison needs more outposts yesterday. Kadara’s next on the list, far’s I’m concerned, but that means getting a hold on this feud between the Outcasts and Collective. I really, _really_ don’t want to support Sloane, but I’m kinda at a loss as to what to do if I can’t even find the other guy.”

This was it. This was his chance. And it suddenly seemed so...trite. _Well, splendid news! I’ve just remembered I’m the Charlatan!...Congratulations! You’ve passed the test, and now can know my super-secret identity..._

“Plus,” she continued, frowning, “I'm not sure I like the idea of setting someone like that up for power.”

He closed his mouth around the ghosts of his confession. “Someone like what?”

“I dunno,” she said, frowning deeper still. “Vague, I guess. Ruling from the shadows. People in positions of power have just that – power – but they should also have the kind of visibility to make them culpable if they screw up. Like Sloane. Say what you will about her –” she shot him a crooked little smile, “—and I know you will, but at least she shows her face to the masses.”

“Shows her face in order to instill fear and dependency in the masses,” he said, barely able to keep his annoyance in check.

Ryder raised her brows. “I know she’s a dick, Vidal. I already said I didn’t want to support her, didn’t I?” She sighed. “I just wish there were a third option...” She suddenly grinned across the table at him. “Like you.”

He nearly choked. Someday, Reyes thought, he was going to have a conversation with this creature in which he could predict what she was going to say, thereby having the appropriate responses ready ahead of time, like normal.

“What?”

“Seriously! I mean, you seem to know everybody and everything already – y’know, except the Charlatan – and it’s not like everyone _loooves_ you, but in a weird way, you usually end up getting what you want, anyway, and – what?”

Reyes realized he was just staring at her. “Exactly what do you mean,” he finally said, “not everyone loves me?”

She gave a chortle of laughter, the sound at odds with her elfin face. “Well...Drack doesn’t like you.”

“Drack doesn’t like being awake.”

“He likes _me._ ”

Reyes found himself once more on the verge of dangerous territory. He needed to divert the topic, and fast.

Instead, he found that it suddenly very difficult to look away from her quirked little mouth. To add dismay to abject horror, he heard himself say, “Come out with me tonight.”

He received small pleasure from the fact that he had managed to throw her off for once. “What?”

_In for a penny._ “Come out with me tonight. Sloane’s holding a little get-together. Be my plus-one.”

The little darling truly looked confused. “But...Sloane?”

He shook his head. “Bigger picture, Ryder – free drinks. Chance to unwind a little bit.”

He watched as she absentmindedly rubbed the back of her neck again, then bit her lip. He clenched his jaw against the urge to leap across the table and bite it for her.

“I mean...I guess. I’ll have to run it by the crew... _Sloane?_ ”

“It’s a large hall, you’ll barely know she’s there.”

“Free drinks, you said?”

“You need only spend your time with me, looking suitably impressed by my every clever remark.”

She let out a snort, then looked worried. “Is it like... a dress-up thing?”

His laugh covered his hungry inspection of her. “You look fine.”

“Fine?” She shook her head. “Like I said, not everyone loves you, but you do get your way.”


End file.
